


Legacy of the Re-Animator

by PlagueDoctor31



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Herbert West - Reanimator - H. P. Lovecraft, Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Crossover, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Zombie Character, and im gonna do them, i have hair-brained schemes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueDoctor31/pseuds/PlagueDoctor31
Summary: Daniel finally got the Cain Family inheritance, but it was nothing like he'd expected. And what's he going to do when his inheritance comes back to life?
Relationships: Daniel Cain/Herbert West, Narrator (Herbert West - Reanimator)/Herbert West
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. The Kiss of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wanted to do a crossover with the original "Herbert West- Re-Animator" by HP Lovecraft and the 1985 movie adaptation, and this was the result.

Graduating medical school at Miskatonic University was the most exciting and nerve-wracking moment of Daniel Cain’s life, but not for the reasons most would expect. Those around him, from the faculty to the fellow students, were not surprised to see him walking across the stage to accept his MD, as the Cain family contained a long line of Miskatonic Medical Alumni dating back to the early 1900s. Like the men before him, Daniel was a star student: bright, well respected, and maintained a good relationship with almost everyone he came into contact with. All smiled upon him as he walked off the stage, but when he turned to smile back, he was only looking at one person.

His father stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd to Daniel, sitting as close to the stage as he could as both he and his wife smiled proudly at their son. He wore his doctor’s uniform, stark white in the sea of color. Daniel couldn’t see it, but he knew full well that his father carried a small package with him. It was the reason why he was so nervous, so excited. It was why he stressed through all those years of medical school. It was the package he was born to receive.

Ever since the early 1920s, the Cain family came into possession a property in Boston, a mortuary as part of a filled up cemetery. No one needed it. No one wanted it, except for, of course, the Cain family. Daniel always begged his father to tell him why the house was so important, to which his father always reassured him that he’ll find out when he was older. He was older now, and with a degree in hand Daniel had only another hour until he received the key to his long awaited prize. Finally he will know.

With the help of a friend from the neighboring dorm, Daniel was all packed and driving out to Boston.

“Your parents really planned this out for you, haven’t they?” her worried expression was as easy to read as an open book “Get your MD and move out to Boston like your father did before? Don’t you have a say?”

“My family’s been doing this for decades,” he reassured her “Besides, I’m finally getting the inheritance I’ve been waiting for.”

Daniel looked back on her as he drove along the highway to his new home. Megan was always so sweet to him, and perhaps if he wasn't so engrossed in his studies things might’ve been different. She was the only one who Dan divulged his feelings to, the expectations that weighed on his shoulders and the ever-increasing excitement when it came to meeting said expectations. Megan found his family and his destined path to be strange, but she still accepted it, simply commenting that Arkham was filled with bizarre families. She gave him her number before he left, demanding he call her if he ever needed someone to talk to out there in Boston. Daniel glanced down at his breast pocket where he had stored the number, a smile growing on his lips. He will call her, as long as he wasn’t busy.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the looming Victorian architecture, and the butterflies in Daniel’s stomach took flight once again. It looked like something out of a movie with the darkened windows and aging paint that was no doubt chipping away in some areas, and the age of his new home stayed consistent when Daniel stepped inside.

“Dad?” Daniel called out, stepping through the neatly cluttered rooms of worn furniture and antique decorations, all family heirlooms collected since the first Cain moved in. Dan furrowed his brow, something not quite clicking. The home was rather… large, and Daniel was told that the first Cain had lived on his own before he got married, much similar to what was going to become of him now. But the sheer amount of _stuff_ : shelves jam-packed with books and papers, couches and chairs in almost every room on the first floor. Daniel furrowed his brow in confusion. This house better fitted an older couple or a small family, not a bachelor who just recently graduated medical school.

He had just finished inspecting the kitchen, the only wholly modern section of the house (so far), when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind.

“You found your new home alright?”

Daniel turned to smile at his father, “Oh no, the cemetary made it really easy. Besides, I still remember the first time you showed me this house like it was yesterday.”

“That’s a good lad,” his father patted his shoulder with a warm smile. Dan and his father were very much alike in many ways: Bright, sentimental, and a lingering sense of curiosity that only his father seemed to have truly understood. The way both of their eyes shined when a puzzle was put forth to them, the mutual smirks of confidence. It was as if those traits were a part of Daniel’s very blood, dare he say his own soul.

“Taking care of the home is one thing,” The elder Cain continued, using the hand on Daniel’s shoulder to lead him onwards out of the kitchen and through the house, “But the Cain family as long held a safeguard over… a _treasure_ of sorts, started by your grandfather when he first acquired the house. Sure, the Cain family has been well known facets of the medical community for generations, but it was your grandfather that changed how we conducted ourselves.”

Daniel furrowed his brow in thought as the two reached the steps to the basement, “And this has to do with a ‘treasure’? If it’s not the house, then what is it?”

His father merely smiled as he came to a pause on the steps. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his jacket, he withdrew two items that he held out to his son: A worn journal and an ornate key attached to a necklace chain. Daniel simply accepted these items carefully and allowed himself to be beckoned further down into the earthen basement of brick and must.

“Your task, as the new owner of this mortuary, is to care for all within it. You must take special care of what’s in the basement. Follow the instructions in that journal to the letter, so that the treasure can be passed down to the next Cain in line.”

Daniel’s father looked gravely at him as he relayed these instructions, his hand grasping the doorknob that led to the rest of the basement. As silence fell, Daniel took a deep breath at the weight of the task before him. He stared back at his father, who waited for some kind of answer of acknowledgement. Daniel nodded. Whatever lies behind that door, he will do his best to uphold his family name.

His father smiled warmly, as he always did when Dan was growing up, “I’m so proud of you, son.”

The door opened, revealing a large empty room before Daniel. Well, _almost_ empty, for in the center of the room laid a large glass coffin.

|-----[--------------------}-----

“He wants you to take care of _what!?_ ”

“He wants me to take care of a corpse,” Dan repeated himself, flopping down onto the living room couch with the old journal in one hand and a phone receiver in the other, “The pieces of one, at least.”

Megan was on the other end of the line, currently balking at the idea of such a task being given to him. Dan didn’t blame her; the moment he saw the body lying in the silk-cushioned glass coffin, he knew he had to tell someone. The moment his father left him to his own devices, he practically sprinted for the phone.

“Look, I know I said Arkham families can be weird, but I wasn’t expecting your family to be so… so morbid,” Megan paused, “What does it look like? How old is it? It has to be pretty old.”

“That’s just it,” Dan admitted, “It’s perfectly preserved! I don’t know how my father or grandfather did it, but it all looks as fresh as the day he died. If it wasn’t in pieces, I swear it looks like he’s--”

“He? So the corpse is a man? Let me guess, he’s a relative of yours?”

Dan shook his head, “I doubt it. He’s uhh…”

He paused, turning his mind back to that basement.

“He looks about my age. Small, fairly small. And blonde hair. If he wasn’t, you know, dead, I’d say you could describe as pretty I guess.”

“Huh, like an angel in pieces.”

Dan was unsure where such a morbid comment came from with Megan, but nonetheless he nodded in agreement, “Yeah, you can say that.”

If Megan spoke, Dan wasn’t paying much attention as he looked toward the old journal, flicking through the yellow pages as he tucked the phone receiver under his ear.

_”Property of H. West”_

That only brought a confused look to Dan, for he had never heard that name before. He continued on, finding the journal to be full of anatomical drawings and chemical formulas accompanied by rushed and furious handwriting. Skipping ahead, the writing on the journal changed, cleaner script giving way along with less and less drawn diagrams. Daniel slowed down, allowing him to better read what was before him.

_”They broke through the wall and they took him. Tore him before my very eyes.”_

_“He is gone, but is he truly dead?”_

“Dan? Daniel?”

Dan allowed himself to look away from the book, turning his attention back to the receiver, “Huh? What’s wrong, Meg?”

He could hear Megan sigh in relief on the other end, “You just went really quiet. I got worried. Are you really going to do this? Really?”

Dan let out a sigh, taking one last look at the journal, “I have to. For my family.”

|-----[--------------------}-----

**The following instructions are directed to the Cain family descendants in regards to the upkeep of the Mortuary and its Contents:**

**1\. Lock all Doors at night. No intruders must be allowed access.**

Every door shut with a hearty click of the lock. Dan noted how solid it all felt, even as he pulled on the doors to ensure closure. Whoever lived here in the past had a strong fear of what may be outside. Was it his grandfather? Or perhaps someone else...

**2\. Check the plaster walls in the basement. Not even a single rodent should be able to break through.**

Dan didn’t quite understand this one. The plaster down there felt strong, recently put into place no doubt thanks to his father. He looked back at the glass coffin behind him and the body within.

“Guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” Dan joked, “I’m Daniel Cain, and you are…?”

The coffin and its occupant were silent, though Dan was unsure why he expected a response.

**3\. Clean the pieces with the solution outlined below. Ensure no decay has been let into the coffin.**

Dan paused his work as he looked down at what was before him. With his sleeves rolled up, he was carefully sponging the cleaning solution provided by the journal and his father. Rubbing it delicately into the dead skin, gently lifting piece after piece. But he was working so slowly, surely there was an easier way to clean it.

“In pieces, it’s taking so much longer… Wouldn’t you agree?” Dan once again at the body, looking towards the detached head that lay nestled in the silk pillows of the coffin. No answer came, and Dan shook his head and laughed. He must have a screw loose if he was continuing to speak to a dead body of all people. He should call Meg again tonight.

**4\. Ensure the coffin is locked at all times before and after cleaning. For the dead sometimes do not stay dead.**

Dan found the last instructions foreboding, and thus twisted the ornate key out of the lock to ensure the coffin was shut tightly. He took one last look at the contents within, at the slight body and cherubic face. Who was this man in life? Why did his grandfather put so much effort in preserving him? Perhaps Dan should dig around the house, find any and all clues that may help him. When time permits, of course.

“Goodnight,” Dan muttered under his breath, smoothing his hand over the glass top for one last lingering moment before standing up, knowing the cycle of activities will repeat the next day.

|-----[--------------------}-----

The phone rang, echoing throughout the house, and Dan rushed to grab the receiver.

“Meg?” Dan gasped, his face quirking up into a smile as he heard the familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Oh thank god,” Megan exclaimed from the other end of the line, “Sorry, work has had me buried for the past week, I wasn’t able to call you. Are you holding up alright?”

“More or less,” Dan allowed himself to sit down in the closest plush chair in the living room, “It’s all starting to get… I don’t know, monotonous.”

“And the…” Megan paused, as if unable to fully muster the words, “And the body?”

“I’m working on it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Dan shrugged, finding it his turn to find the right words, “I just got tired of seeing it the way he was. Every time I saw him, he was in pieces. Arms and legs separated, head completely off, the torso got some large cuts on--”

“Oh god, Dan, you’re making me sick.”

“Sorry,” Dan paused again, “I just thought he might be easier to look at if he was in one piece.”

“... Dan you didn’t.”

“I had to.”

He heard Megan sigh on the other end. He really did feel he had no other choice. He felt as though he was showing the body a kind of mercy in those dark hours, carefully and methodically sewing it all back together. Sure, the man looked as though he was a patchwork doll from the waist-down, but for some reason it brough Dan relief to see him whole.

“At least, maybe there’s a way to cover him up?” Megan suggested, “I don’t know. The way you describe the body makes it feel so… so exposed and disrespectful.”

A lightbulb lit up in Dan’s mind, “Maybe like clothing. I think he would appreciate that.”

“Please stop talking about the body as if it’s still alive…”

Spurred on by some kind of higher purpose, Dan found his way into the attic of the mortuary, filled with dust and boxes of items that were deemed less important by those who came before him. He set to work, pilfering through every trunk he found, hoping to find some spare clothes to use (because, frankly, he preferred not to use his own clothes). Trunk after trunk, book pile after book pile, Dan found more oddities than he expected: beakers and bottles, rusted medical equipment and faded anatomical drawings. Dan paused at the sight of them. Why were they here? He was told this place was a mortuary, not a doctor’s office.

He was just about ready to move away when a faint glow caught his gaze. Squinting through the haze of dust, Dan saw it. A jar of luminescent liquid sat nestled upon a pile of crumpled clothes. He was careful as he crossed over, drawn towards it as if being pulled by a string. Dan couldn’t take his eyes off of it as he stared wide-eyed. It shined in iridescents, in colors he couldn’t quite place as they swirled together by some kind of force within, creating a whitish glow that felt so warm and inviting and joyous and hopeful that only one word to mind. _Life. Sheer pure life._

Without thinking, Dan reached for the pile of clothes and the jar.

“I brought you a present,” Dan spoke aloud as he entered the basement and once again greeted with silence from the glass coffin. Dan didn’t care this time as he knelt down at its side and used the ornate key he wore around his neck to open the lock.

“Perhaps this will help you feel more, I don’t know,” Dan explained as he began inspecting the clothes, finding them smaller in size compared to him, “More human.”

With careful hands, he began to dress the body within, surprised by his own elation when he found the articles of clothing to fit perfectly. There the body lay with a fasted black pants, white shirt now yellowed with time covering up the stitches that now kept the body whole. He paused, realizing something was missing. The man laying before him didn’t look quite right. Furrowing his brow, Dan turned his gaze back to the jar, as if it would give him answers.

A pair of wire frames sat beside it, as if waiting for Dan to look this way. He didn’t need to think twice before snatching up the glasses.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Dan noted out loud as he leaned over to get a better look at the body’s face. Curiosity got the better of him, and he ever so gently lifted the lids to reveal his eyes: a pair of glassy faded blue eyes.

Dan smiled at the sight, “Very fitting of you.”

Satisfied, he shut the eyes again and placed the glasses over the man’s face. The man before him truly did look like he was sleeping, and Dan couldn’t help but feel he would wake up any second now. In the back of his mind, a voice admitted that he would like that. If the man woke up and spoke to Dan, he would be able to answer so many questions: Who was he? Where did he come from? Why did his grandfather keep him in a box for 60 years? What was it like on the other side?

His eyes flicked back to the jar that continued to glow that radiant color. It sat there, continuing to swirl and tantalizing Dan. With both hands he lifted it up, desiring a closer look. Much like the body, the jar was now also bringing for questions. As he looked back and forth between the jar and the body, he thought back to that journal, that property of “H. West”, and the instructions written at the very end.

_”The dead sometimes do not stay dead._

“This is crazy…” Dan sighed, “No way something exists that can bring the dead back.”

Something within him stopped himself from putting the jar down, something that was a part of his bloodline, his very soul: Curiosity. A maddening curiosity that he knows will never be quenched.

So he retrieved a rusted syringe from the attic and filled it with the jar’s contents before injecting it into the man’s heart.

|-----[--------------------}-----

Dan didn’t know what he was expecting as he laid in bed for the night, but he fully expected something more than the body remaining inert after he injected it with the solution. He sighed, knowing it was better to sleep than to wallow in disappointment.

“The syringe was too old, and whatever that solution was probably doesn’t even work anymore.”

He was so desperate to be a part of something, to make his mark on the Cain family like those before him that he never stopped to think if it was even possible. Defeating death and achieving resurrection, as far fetched as it sounded, was the dream of all doctors, Dan knew this. Still, the quickly extinguished excitement stung as he thought back to the body, knowing that it would forever lie there in the perpetual sleep known as Death.

_**CRASH!** _

Dan bolted upright at the sound, his eyes wide with fear. His gaze flicked around, his mind raced. Did he lock all the doors tonight? The journal told him to lock the doors. Wait, if the doors weren’t locked, why was there the sound of glass breaking. That sound… it didn’t sound like it came from somewhere close by. It sounded like it came from the basement.

_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!** _

Dan sprang out of bed and ran out of the room, following that haunting wailing scream down the flights of the stairs and into the earthen cellar of the basement. Oh how his hands shook as he fumbled to get the door open, and as he flung the door wide he saw the chaos within.

The coffin was shattered, a form of a man stumbling around the glass covered floor as his arms writhed and waved in the air, struggling with some unseen force. His clothes, though ripped, wearing that familiar yellowed shirt and faded black pants. The blonde hair was disheveled and disturbed and that angelic face and glassy blue eyes were alight with emotion as it cried out in a gasping voice.

_”Cain…! Cain don’t leave me! We’re in this together!”_

Dan’s legs gave out from under him, sinking him to the floor as his eyes watched with maddening horror. The realization of his discovery finally made itself known through a whisper on his lips.

“He… He’s _alive!_ ”


	2. Alive Once Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan needs help with the situation brewing in the basement, and there's only one person he can really call.

The house was dark and the night was silent as a ringing phone awoke Megan Halsey from her sleep. Her brow furrowed in irritation, and she opened her eyes ever so slowly.

The ringing did not cease, and Megan forced herself out of bed to answer it. She shuffled down the hall, wrapping a plush robe snug around her to keep warm. Something about nights in Arkham always felt chilly, and this instance was no exception. However, something was amiss once she had reached the phone, the cold feeling was different. It was well past midnight, Megan was sure of this, so who would think to call her now of all times? The cold seeped in, causing Megan to shiver and shake her head. _You’ve been watching too many movies, Meg. Relax!_

She lifted the phone out of the receiver, hoping her voice kept even as she spoke.

“Who is this? Do you realize what time it is?”

“Meg? Meg! You need to get down here. Now.”

Megan’s eyebrows raised at the sound of the familiar voice on the other end, “Dan! What’re you doing!? It’s past midnight!”

“I know it is, Meg, but I can’t-- I can’t be alone right now.”

Any other time, Megan would be confused, but the frantic tone in Dan’s voice, the fear… It worried her.

“Dan?” Her voice began to waver, “What’s wrong?”

“He’s alive, Meg. I don’t know how, but the body’s alive.”

Megan didn’t know what force of will kept her from hanging up on him or simply dropping the phone, but she listened to him. She nodded curtly. Either Dan was more cracked than he was normally, or the impossible just happened. But hey, she was an Arkham native, and Arkham was a place of strange events. Whatever the case may be, she could handle this.

“I’ll be there, Dan. Just give me time.”

|-----[--------------------}-----

It took 40 minutes of just barely speeding from Arkham to Boston for Megan to finally pull up to the Christchurch Mortuary, and Dan was waiting for her in front of the house. It was nowhere near the time for the sun to rise, and Dan hadn’t bothered to turn on the porch light, leaving him to only be illuminated by the low beams of Meg’s car. The nerves continued to tighten in her gut, the urge to turn around and leave growing louder and louder. Despite that, she parked the car with a stiff hand, unable to take her eyes off of Dan’s bedraggled and fear-ridden face.

Meg felt as though she was being watched as she stepped out, trying not to stare too long at the looming Victorian architecture that loomed behind her friend. All was still in the night as she stepped closer. No wind to breeze through her hair or rustle the trees. There were no distant bird calls, only silence. It didn’t help that a mere glance to her right revealed the old gravestones that the mortuary kept watch over.

“You came,” Dan spoke with a sigh of relief that did little to loosen Meg’s tension.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Meg shuddered as some unknown chill and she crossed her arms for warmth or some sense of protection, “How long have you been out here?”

Dan simply shrugged, slowly trudging back to reenter the mortuary, “He wouldn’t stop making noise.”

“That doesn’t answer any of my questions.”

Dan said nothing as he stepped inside, prompting Meg to frown and quickly follow him. All was still silent and that seemed to relieve Dan somewhat and pick up his pace. It all felt so antique as she was led through the old wood and aging furniture. The sheer collection of items on display, it was certainly the culmination of multiple generations of one family living under one roof.

But there was no time to address it, Dan was making his way into the basement and Meg knew she had to follow no matter how reluctant she felt. She already came this far, and what kind of friend would Meg be if she left at this very moment. The stairs creaked under both of their weight and the general must of the house only intensified as they descended lower, leading them into a small room with a furnace and a second door.

It was this second door that gave Meg pause. It was certainly old, but the glints of metal along the edges and the strips for the locks all along the side. Reinforced and protected; whatever lies beyond was considered a prize, and from what Dan told her that prize was a body. He was in the middle of unlocking these strips when Dan noticed Meg was still standing on the stairs. He smiled ever so slightly, as if hoping to reassure her.

“It’s okay,” he spoke softly, “He seems to have stopped now.”

He finished the last of the locks and opened the door slowly, prompting Meg to let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It took all the strength in her legs to continue to move onward, the tension now holding fast to her whole body as ever-so-silently stepped to the doorway.

If this part of the basement had furniture, it was stripped bare long ago, leaving nothing but a dirt floor, plaster walls, and a small altar. On that altar was the shattered husk of a glass coffin, just as Dan had told her on that first day. There was no obvious sign of a body that lay within, instead there was a form, a figure, slumped up against the back wall of the room. It was not resting, simply unmoving as her eyes adjusted to the dark to see the small shape of a blond-haired man curled up and limp against the wall.

The sight seemed to alarm Dan, for without warning he rushed past her and crossed the room towards it.

|-----[--------------------}-----

No. No! NO! This wasn’t right! This wasn’t right at all! The Body was moving! Dan swore he was! He dashed towards the crumpled man and knelt beside, the dread growing in his stomach as no reaction was provoked by his approach. It continued to lay there, its dead weight propped up by the wall Dan swore it was scratching at for the past half an hour. Ever so gently, he took the body into his arms, cradling it close as he began his inspection.

_Did something go wrong? Hopefully a stitch didn’t come loose. Thank god he’s not bleeding. Why did he stop? There must be something that--_

“Dan…?”

Dan’s neck snapped up, looking up to see a hesitant Meg Halsey step back in shock. Shame pricked his insides, knowing just how crazy he probably looked right now.

“Meg, please believe me,” Dan carefully smoothed out the pale yellow hair and shifted for his friend to get a better look, “This is him. I-I don’t know his name, but he was alive and moving. I swear!”

Meg shook her head, her voice adopting a cautious tone, “It’s not moving now, Dan.”

“He, Meg! _He!_ ” Dan barked with a surprising amount of irritation, “He’s a person and he’s alive!”

“No it’s not, Dan!” Meg yelled back with a frantic spark of anger, “It’s just a corpse! A long dead one! Like you said: You don’t even know its name.”

Dan reeled at the retort, his mind racing to comprehend it all. The glass shattering was no mistake, but the scream? Could he have been imagining it? Maybe Megan was right and it all was getting into his head. This newfound desire to prove himself and satisfy his curiosity could have led his mind to bend the truth, but really to such an extreme? People remarked him as odd occasionally, yes, but never mentally unsound. He followed Meg with his eyes as she crossed the room, watching her carefully step over the glass shards that strewn around the coffin.

“Maybe…” Meg began to rationalize, “Maybe the glass broke on its own. It got too cold or hot and it just…”

She trailed off, coming to a sudden stop as something on the ground. She bent down to pick it up, and when she rose a familiar jar was held in her hands. A jar that continued to glow faintly with its swirling iridescents. Dan’s eyes widened at the sight, feeling that renewed sense of inspiration he felt when he first laid eyes upon the jar.

“The spark of life,” He whispered with the reverence of a prayer. Meg turned to look at him, confusion plain on her face.

“What?”

Dan shifted his hold on the body so he could hold out a free hand.

“Give it here. I need it to bring him back.”

Meg’s confusion changed to alarm, “Dan, what are you talking about?”

“I injected some of that into him, and not long after he started to move. That formula… No, the reagent is the key!”

“What the hell!? You’re injecting mystery chemicals into dead bodies now?”

“Yes, with that syringe over there.”

Meg paused, glancing down and shaking her head at the sight of the syringe he had left on the floor.

“You’re injecting mystery chemicals into a dead body with a _rusted_ syringe!?”

Dan carefully laid the body out on the floor before leaping to his feet. The desire to prove himself was back again. He’ll show her. He knew he will as he crossed the room. Stopping in front of her, Dan looked at Meg in the eye, hoping she could see his conviction. He continued to stare as he reached down, lifting the syringe off the ground.

Meg let out a breath, “Fine… But if it-- _he_ comes back with tetanus, I’m blaming you.”

Dan huffed out a laugh and the two quietly stepped around the altar and returned to the body. He allowed himself to pause, glancing at Meg to see her reaction now that she was seeing the mysterious “Cain Family Treasure” up close. He watched as she set down the jar and regarded the pristine pale skin but not before wincing at the sight of the stitches that peeked through the torn holes of the shirt.

“You were right,” Meg whispered, “If he wasn’t originally in pieces, he’d look like he could wake up at any moment.”

Dan nodded, smiling wider with vindication as he took the opportunity to fill the syringe with the reagent in the jar. Without a word, he gently cradled the body back into his arms and injected the so-called “spark of life” into its heart.

|-----[--------------------}-----

“How long are you going to keep holding that thing?”

Dan looked up at Meg, not realizing he had dozed off there. The two had simply sat in silence, waiting for any reaction from the injection. He glanced down at the body, which he still held up with an arm.

He simply shrugged in response, “However long it takes for him to wake back up.”

Meg let out a hollow laugh, glancing around the room as she thought out loud, “Being from Arkham, especially having relatives who work at Miskatonic, you hear a lot of stories of… I’m not sure how to call it. ‘Weird Science’, ‘Strange Tales’. Stories of students and staff at Arkham experiencing strange events or doing some crackpot experiment.”

“What happens to them?”

“They go insane,” Meg looked up at Dan with an unsure expression, “Or they die.”

Dan pursed his lips in thought, wondering if his family was once the subject of one of those stories. However, he felt a stir in his arms and his whole body went rigid. Meg must’ve noticed as well, for she too was now completely still where she sat. Through the night air, the two of them looked down at the body in Dan’s arms. The muscles in its neck twitched, and its hands began to move ever so slightly. All was still silent, and it took all of Dan’s willpower to stop himself from making a noise in excitement.

_That jar! That reagent did it! I don’t know how, but it’s making the body move all on his own! Will it make him be able to speak again? Just like before?_

Dan was not expecting the spasm as his grip on the body was nearly torn away by the sudden movement. Its back arched, legs and arms flailing in the air as the thing raggedly gasped for air. Meg screamed in shock, backing up in some reflexive response to get away. Dan steeled himself, tightening his grip on the body as he prepared himself to hold it down.

He needn’t have bothered, for the spasms were gone as soon as it had came. The arms and legs went limp, the chest rose and fell slowly to suck in more oxygen, and the eyes (which, up until this moment, were closed) were slowly beginning to open. Dan watched up close as that delicate face he had grown used to seeing through glass begin to relax, and the pale blue eyes fluttered open, no longer dull and dead but shining with a new vigor.

And at that, Dan couldn’t help but smile. The man, only a corpse a few minutes ago, was now alive in his arms. It seemed impossible, but there it was.

The man’s mouth twitched, slowly moving to form words as it breathed out:

_”C-...ainnnnnn…?”_

Dan laughed with giddy disbelief. The man knew his name! Well, at least his family name. IT was a start. He quickly nodded to give the man confirmation.

“Yes! Yes, I’m Cain. Dan--”

_”Caaaain…”_ The man cut him off, his brow furrowing.

“Yes, yes. What’re you thinking? How do you feel?” Dan could practically burst from excitement as he tried to restrain himself from rattling off questions. He could hear Meg calling out to him, a warning tone in her voice, but he didn’t care. The man ever so slowly raised up his hands.

_“You…”_

The hands reached Dan’s throat and wrapped around it.

_”BASTARD!!!”_

Dan’s eyes widened with shock, and opening his mouth to cry out for help proved fruitless as all he could muster was a strangled gasp. In a swift motion, the man shoved Dan to the floor with a strength he would have never expected. Meg cried out, springing to her feet as she rushed over to separate the two.

Dan struggled and pulled on the hands that had latched themselves to his neck, and at the face of the man they were attached to. His eyes were shining bright now, shining with rage. His teeth were gritted and his face twisted with an anger that did not suit the almost cherubic-like quality of his features. The man couldn’t be mad at Dan, was he? Was he???

Meg’s arms wrapped around the man’s middle, pulling hard to get him to let go. She grunted and yelled with effort, but at last she was successful as Dan gasped for air at the sudden freedom. The man fell back with Meg onto the ground, gasping and coughing as he held himself on the ground, giving Meg enough time to scurry away and go to Dan’s side.

“You alright?” Meg looked concerned as she helped Dan into a sitting position. Dan nodded, trying to even out his shaky breath.

“I’m alright,” he glanced up at the man who was slowly steadying himself on the floor, “I wasn’t really expecting that.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Meg looked in that direction as well before calling out, “Hey! Whatever idea you’ve got into your head, you better drop it. This isn’t the Cain you’re looking for.”

That seemed to catch the man’s attention as he gasped out:

_”Not… Cain?”_

Dan shrugged, “My name is Daniel. Daniel Cain.”

The man seemed to sigh, in what seemed to be relief. He turned his head towards the other two, his expression looking withered.

_”It hurts…”_

Concern panged inside Dan, to see the man before him shaking ever so slightly as he held himself up, that soft blond hair falling in front of his face. He pushed himself upright, and he barely registered Meg’s whispered protest as Dan cautiously approached.

“Where does it hurt?” Dan asked softly, reaching out. The man tensed, but strangely seemed to relax when Dan reached for the man’s wrist for a pulse. Where did the man think Dan was going to reach? The pulse was rapid and the man shuddered at the touch, skin still cool to the touch.

_”Everywhere.”_

“Can I ask,” Meg spoke up, “Was your death painful?”

The man simply shifted his gaze to her, _“Birth... can be just as agonizing.”_

Dan smiled ever so slightly thinking to himself. _You mean “rebirth”._ Instead he tutted and let go of the man’s wrist. He looked up to find the other staring at him once again, with a quizzical and analyzing expression.

“And, er, who are you, mister?” Meg continued her questions.

The man did not take his eyes off of Dan as he answered, _“West… Herbert West.”_

Dan’s eyes widened in recognition. “H. West”, the journal belonged to this man? His change expression must’ve been caught by West, for the man tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“Uh…” Dan floundered, not expecting the “Cain Family Treasure” to be so intense, “M-Maybe we should take you upstairs. Your stitches might’ve torn, and--”

_“Yes. Take me out of this crypt of a basement,”_ West coughed, his voice sounding more ragged. Maybe Dan should’ve offered him a drink too. He watched as the small man pressed his hands onto the ground, his body shaking more as he attempted to push himself off of the floor. The wave of sympathy returned to Dan, and with both hands he reached out to pull West up.

West swayed as he rose to his feet, gripping tightly to Dan’s offered hands. Dan couldn’t help but smile and feel his heart beat with excitement. A man who was once dead… now standing alive before him. It felt surreal, dreamlike, and yet Dan’s mind raced at what he should even do with these developments. He could only imagine the stitched-up patchwork underneath holding all the pieces of a morbid puzzle together. He shook his head quickly. No time to get distracted as he gently slung West’s arm over his shoulders and helped him towards the exit.

“There we go, that’s it!”

_”Cain… I’m not a newborn.”_

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.”

Meg chuckled behind the two of them, and Dan looked back to see her picking the jar of iredecants off of the floor. She inspected it briefly until ultimately deciding to hold it in her arms. It clicked in his head that she must have better foresight than him. The solution in that container was the cause of this whole situation. He’ll have to broach the topic to West when the moment calls for it upstairs.

Speaking of, West was also looking back, but as Dan followed his gaze he realized that the man was not looking at Meg or the jar. Instead he was looking past her to the further-most wall. His eyes were wide, unblinking, as if he was concerned if some miraculous change would occur if he simply looked away. His body was tensing up, and Dan furrowed his brow with worry.

“Is something wrong, Mr. West?”

It took a few moments of hesitation on West’s part before he even acknowledged that he was being spoken to. He straightened his back and firmly turning his head away. His expression was vague, being difficult to read as he picked up his pace, now being the one to lead Dan out of the basement with Meg trailing behind.

_”It is nothing…”_ was all he said.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAA This was one of my oldest WIP that I finally got done! I took inspiration from multiple sources, but really the Dark Adventure Radio Theater adaptation of the short stories was the last push of inspiration I needed for the piece. Hopefully I can write more in the future, if real life permits me, but I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Please feel free to give me your thoughts, because I'm always happy to hear them! ^_^


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